


Clean

by Ava_now



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 09:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_now/pseuds/Ava_now
Summary: The fallout of an assault.  Short one-shot.





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to Barisi and the Washing Machine challenge. Please note that this has potentially triggering material.

Shivering, he wrapped the towel around him more tightly before grabbing his sweats.  The glass of scotch he had poured was sweating on the nightstand; he grabbed it and finished it quickly, then rubbed himself dry as quickly and thoroughly as he could.  Yanking the sweats on his legs, he pulled them up and reached for the tee shirt Sonny had discarded this morning as he readied himself for work.  With any luck, he’d be alone for a little while longer--hopefully long enough to erase any evidence and calm himself down.

He scooped up the clothes he had worn to the bar--button-down, jeans, boxer briefs, socks--and tossed them into the washing machine.  Sonny had insisted on it when they got the place.  At the time, he hadn’t seen the appeal.

“Are you serious?” he had replied to the request.  “Why not just send them out?”

“Because,” Sonny had stated patiently,”this is more affordable and so much easier.  Trust me on this, Rafa, you’ll love it.”

He tossed in a pod and set the washer on hot, listening to the water fill the basin.  He stared at it, the basin filling, and didn’t move again until he heard the agitator.  He didn’t even know what he had been thinking about...everything still seemed a blur.  The light conversation, the hand on his thigh, his gentle but firm rebuke.  The sound of the restroom door opening and closing.  The body shoving his against a wall, rubbing firmly against him.  The smells of cologne, of sweat, of urine.  Of the whiskey on his attacker’s breath and on his own.  And the sounds that didn’t happen--mainly his lack of a yell, scream, or even a no as the man had ground against him fiercely for a few long moments before releasing him and leaving the restroom.

He was a sex crimes prosecutor.  This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

He poured himself another shot of whiskey and downed it, but it wasn’t enough to stop his hands from shaking or to quiet the imaginary conversations in his head.  One with Liv, gently challenging him with the need to collect the evidence he had already destroyed; one with Rita, reminding him that she had noted teasingly “that guy is checking you out, Barba--you better be careful!”; his mother’s voice, telling him what he always knew she worried about, that somebody would eventually hurt her son, and he made himself more of a target with his “choices”.  Sonny’s voice, most achingly, telling him repeatedly that it wasn’t his fault.

He had called as soon as he had gotten back to the apartment.  The phone rang three times before Sonny had picked up, his tone light.  “Hey baby, just get home?”

His voice was rough and didn’t sound like his own to his ears.  “Yes...I need you…”

In all their time together, he had never once admitted to Sonny outside of sex that he needed him.  He found that thought swirling in his head as Sonny had quickly and quietly responded, “Rafa...are you okay?  What happened?”

“At the bar,” he heard himself answer.  “At the bar, in the restroom...he cornered me.  I’m home now,” he repeated.  His breath had caught and he felt the lump in his throat choking him.  “I can’t do it, Sonny.  I can’t.”

“Okay.  I’m coming.”

“Please...alone.”  The near-begging tone in his voice was embarrassing but he couldn’t bring himself to sound any more assured.  “Please, Sonny.  Please.”

The answer had been immediate, quiet, and calming.  “Okay, honey.  Of course.  I’m coming now.”

That was seemingly forever ago, but as he glanced at the clock, Rafael realized it had been less than an hour.

He heard the spin cycle start.

There had been semen on his pants, his favorite pair of jeans, and he knew instinctively he would never wear them again, but he also knew as sure as he was breathing they absolutely must be rewashed, agitated in the hot water repeatedly, until there was no possible way any fluids remained.  He found himself rushing toward the washer with a renewed vigor and purpose; he stopped the cycle and pulled his jeans out.  The stain remover was on the shelf above him and he sprayed the material down heavily before shoving the pants back in the machine and trying to start the agitator again.  The machine paused, seemingly refusing to reset, and he yanked the lid up yet again.  “Dammit!” he growled, forcefully gripping the pants and pulling them out of the machine.  He frantically began to rub the pant legs against one another, trying to ensure they were fully scrubbed; he hit his wet hand against the side of the machine, accidentally and painfully, and shouted “Fuck!”

The machine was still quietly humming, stalled, and he suddenly kicked the front as forcefully as he could.  “Fuck!” he shouted again, feeling the enormity of his shame pushing up from his gut.  “Goddamn fucking shit!  Fuck!”

“Rafi, honey.”  Sonny’s warm hands gently covered his and he suddenly realized he was sobbing.  Shaking, sobbing, quivering, and he rubbed the material together even more forcefully.  “Baby.”  Sonny’s voice was warm, calm, gentle.  “What are you trying to do?”

“I have to,” he sobbed desperately, feeling his very soul splinter, “I just can’t get it clean.”

Long arms wrapped around him, pulling him into warmth and safety, lovingly rocking and comforting.  “It’s okay,” Sonny murmured to him over and over.  “You’re going to be okay, honey.  You’re going to be okay.”

And he dropped the jeans back into the washer, collapsing back against his lover’s body, letting himself be surrounded with all of Sonny, letting himself clutch at Sonny’s jacket, letting Sonny support him as he sunk to the floor.  

And he cried.


End file.
